The New Swan Song
by lollipopbirdie
Summary: The angels started the Apocalypse with the help of their newly returned Father. With six months left till the world ends, Sam and Dean must say goodbye to Cas and avoid the angels, who are anxious to send them both back to Hell. But when they add a "criminal" back into their duo, they must avoid God and Lucifer's wrath until the inevitable end.
1. Chapter 1

"Dean… _Dean!"_

Dean Winchester is dragged from sleep by a gruff voice shouting in his ear. He opens his eyes and sees a blurred silhouette standing over him, barely visible against the darkness in the room. Suddenly, light erupts from the bedside lamp, momentarily blinding him.

"God dammit!" he yells, shielding his eyes.

"Dean, you have to get up." He finally recognizes the voice. Cas.

"Jesus Christ, Cas," Dean grumbles as he slowly opens his eyes, "How many times do I have to tell you, humans need sleep! If this is one of your friggin' angel problems I swear…" He pauses when he sees Cas' face peering down at him. His piercing blue eyes are filled with an emotion Dean had never seen them wear- fear.

"Cas, what's…"

"The apocalypse was started," Cas says suddenly, turning away. "I don't know how, but there is no way to stop it." Dean stares at him in shock.

"But… How could this…"

"I've gotten word that it's an ancient method. Violent, brutal, permanent. No one knew about it till now."

"But what about the vessels?" Dean glances over at Sam, realizing that he is still asleep. "I swear, Cas, we didn't say yes."

"This one doesn't involve vessels. At least not you two. Very few angels know about the exact plan, and, because of my recent behavior," his eyes linger on Dean's a second longer than usual, "I'm not granted that knowledge."

Questions swirl around in Dean's mind, but catch in his throat. "How…how long?" he finally manages to croak.

"About six months," Cas answers, looking down at his feet. "And since you two are the ones the angels are blaming this detour on, there's only one thing to do if you want to survive that long." Dean looks at Cas expectantly, but the angel doesn't meet his gaze. "Run."

Dean slowly swings his legs over the edge of his bed and stands up, facing Cas, whose still staring at the ground.

"What do you mean run? There's no friggin' way I'm hiding from those sons 'a bitches! And even if they do kill us, I mean apparently were gonna die anyway so what's the…"

"Dean, you don't understand…"

"No, I understand perfectly! You just want us to…"

"No, Dean, that's not…"

"God dammit, look at me, Cas!" Dean yells as he grabs Cas' arm and yanks him forward. The angel slowly raises his head and meets Dean's gaze.

"They'll send you back to Hell. Both of you."

Dean's grip on his arm relaxes. Cas sees his face contort and his lips move but with no sound coming out. Dean runs his hands over his face and through his hair. Cas, not sure what to do, keeps talking. "Lucifer is almost as angry as the angels. If they send you two back there you'll be stuck for eternity, with no way out." Cas turns and starts pacing in the small space between the beds. "It'll be… well it'll be hell. I'm sure the torturing will be worse since…"

"I get it!" Dean practically screams. Cas looks over at Dean and sees his hair yanked up and eyes blazing. Before he can apologize, a groggy voice croaks from the bed beside them.

"What the hell?" Sam is leaning up on his arm, squinting at the two men. "Cas?"

"Sam," he replies. Dean interrupts before he can explain.

"Get up. Apparently the angels used their mojo to start the friggin' apocalypse."

"B…but we didn't say yes!"

"I know, Sammy!" he yells. "But it doesn't matter." Dean stalks past Cas and starts grabbing clothes and throwing them into the open bags on the coffee table. "Now we have a shit load of angels on our asses, not to mention Lucifer himself." Sam stares at him, speechless. "Their little messenger," Dean says, pointedly, shooting Cas a look, "told me that we gotta run or there gonna throw us in our own personal torture chamber for the rest of our god damn existence. " Dean shoulders the bag, now full, and turns to look at the men still standing on the other side of the room. Sam is sitting up now, mouth hanging half open, and Cas is standing, arms folded, shuffling his feet.

"You guys comin'?" he says gruffly. Sam and Cas don't answer, and he turns and walks out the door, slamming it behind him. Silence fills the room.

"Cas," Sam says softly. Cas turns and looks at him as he stands up, towering over the angel. He looks down again.

"I'm sorry, Sam… I really tried…" Sam smirks and claps him on the shoulder.

"I know you did. It's not your fault." Cas doesn't answer and Sam sighs.

"D'ya think we can calm him down?" Again, no answer. Sam sighs again and walks towards the door. "I guess we go, then," he says as he hits the lights and walks out into the night. Cas nods and follows close behind.

* * *

The Impala gives off an eerie glow as it sits below a single lit street, with inaudible music trickling out of it. Dean stares straight ahead, unmoving, with both hands on the wheel. As Sam and Cas cross the half-lit parking lot and reach the car, he doesn't look up. Cas reaches for the back door handle when Sam clears his throat. He looks up.

"I think… maybe… you two need to talk it out a bit," he says softly. "Figure out a plan and stuff." Cas sighs and backs up, letting Sam climb into the back street. Cas shuffles to the front of the Impala and reluctantly slides into the passenger's seat. Dean stares straight ahead as he starts the car and drives out of the parking lot. The only sound is the music blaring from the speakers. Hours pass, and the sun is peaking up over the horizon by the time Cas speaks.

"Dean." The music blocks out his voice. "Dean!" he yells. Dean slams his hand on the radio and the music is gone.

"What?" he replies flatly. Cas continues reluctantly.

"Where are we going?"

"As far away from that place as possible." There's silence again.

"Dean… I'm sorry I upset you," he says softly, glancing over to see Dean still staring straight ahead. "I just thought you should know before… before it was too late. I don't want something to happen to you," he feels himself blush. "And Sam," he adds quickly. Cas stares down at his knees and waits for a reply. He hears Dean sigh loudly.

"It's ok, Cas," he says slowly. "I'm not mad at you. I'm just, just mad at everything! We tried to stop the whole God damn apocalypse but now… now apparently there's nothing we can do. I just hope to God…" He pauses and something clicks in his mind. He turns to Cas. "Didn't you say that the only thing that could take on the Devil besides Michael is God?" The angel stays silent. "Cas, answer me," he says roughly. More silence. "Cas!"

"Yes, Dean. Yes. God is back." Dean slams on the breaks.

"Jesus, Dean," Sam groans from the back, but he doesn't hear him. He's turned to Cas.

"You're telling me that after all this time, God just reappears to destroy the world and you wait till _now _to tell me?" Before Cas can answer, Dean opens the door and climbs out of the car. He walks around the Impala, hands tugging at his hair, and pauses. He slams his fists on the hood.

"God dammit!" he screams. Sam and Cas wait as he paces on the road in front of them. After a few minutes, Dean climbs back into the driver's seat and starts the car. They drive again, without speaking, for a few hours. This time it's Dean who breaks the silence.

"Anyone hungry?"

"I wish you'd have asked that two hours ago," Sam grumbles from the back. Dean smirks and pulls off of the nearest exit.

* * *

Sam and Cas sit on the hood if the Impala as Dean goes into the gas station to get some food.

"Why aren't you angry?" Cas asks suddenly. Sam laughs.

"I'm just letting Dean have his little moment." He looks over at Cas, realizing he probably doesn't find that funny. "I guess it just hasn't sunken in yet. I mean, it's kinda hard to believe that there's no way to stop it. Not to say you're lying or anything, but it's just a lot to take in."

"I understand. I was shocked when I found out, too," Cas replies.

"You? Shocked? That's kind of hard to believe."

"I was, along with many others."

"So you have no idea how it's gonna go down? Fire? Plagues? Anything?"

"No, but I don't think we will have to wait long to find out." Sam stares at the angel, not sure what to say next.

"Well," he starts slowly, "when do they need you back?" Cas turns to him.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean when do you have to pop up back to heaven? I'm betting they need all the help they can get." Cas stays silent for a moment.

"I'll leave once you both find a place to stay for the night."

"When will you be back?" Sam asks. Cas pauses again.

"I won't." Sam stares at him, shocked.

"Never? Cas, you can't just leave forever, we need you!" He pauses. "Dean needs you."

"I'm sorry, Sam. It's not my choice. They can't know that I've told you. I need to leave before they find out."

"But I thought they kept tabs on you!"

"The new process has drained some of their powers. They are only using them when absolutely necessary, and I'm not exactly their biggest priority right now."

"Yeah, but, you," Sam stutters, trying to find something to say. "When were you planning on telling Dean?" he asks finally. Cas looks over at him, and Sam see how tired he looks. He didn't realize how hard it must be for him, too.

"I wasn't," Cas answers quietly. "I don't think he would care all that much anyways." Sam almost laughs at loud, knowing how much his brother would care! Before Sam has a chance to change Cas' mind, Dean walks out of the shop, caring two greasy fast food bags and a folded up map. Dean walks up to the car. "Anyone want tacos?" he asks cheerfully. He notices the uncomfortable silence between Sam and Cas. "Did I interrupt something?" he says, playfully.

"No," Sam answers, looking down at his hands. Dean raises and eyebrow at his brothers, unconvinced, and shoves one of the bags into his chest.

"Eat up. We still got a ways to go and I'm not stopping this car until we get there." He looks up at Cas to see him squinting, staring off into the bright horizon. Dean's stomach does a flip. _Damn, I should have been nicer to him, _he thinks.

"Cas," he says, as softly as possible. The angel turns to look at him, and Dean sees how worn down he looks. His blue eyes are weighed down with sadness and his hair is mussed up from the hours sitting in the car. He reminds Dean of a lost little kid, and Dean can't help but want to take him into his arms and make him feel safe. Cas cocks his head to the side, confused at Dean's gaze, and Dean realizes how long he's been staring. He looks down, blushing, and tries to remember what he was going to say. "Oh, well, I got you some food," he says, trying to regain his composure. He clears his throat and looks up, hoping Cas doesn't notice the redness still fading from his cheeks. He smiles when he sees that Cas still has a confused look on his face.

"Dean, you know I don't need to eat," Cas replies quizzically. Dean chuckles.

"Yeah, I know, but I thought you should try a taco at least once before, well, you know." Cas looks uncomfortable, but doesn't say anything. Dean slides onto the hood of the car between the angel and his little brother and hands Cas a few foil wrapped tacos out of the greasy sack. Sam elbows him, and Dean looks over, realizing that he's been watching the whole time. Sam raises and eyebrow at his big brother.

"What was that?" he asks quietly, so Cas can't hear.

"I don't know what you mean," Dean mumbles. Sam smirks as he sees Dean's face turn bright red. He knows Dean has a soft spot for Cas, but he would never admit it.

"Sure," Sam says mockingly, and turns back to his food. Suddenly, he remembers he and Cas' conversation. _I have to tell Dean, _he thinks to himself, sadly. Sam puts down his food and wipes the grease off his hands. He's not that hungry anymore.

* * *

Sam takes the passenger seat for the last stretch of their journey. He needs to talk to Dean alone, but knows that's not really possible with Cas listening in the back seat. Eventually, the angel closes his eyes. Angels don't sleep, but Sam guesses that he's not tuned in anymore. He takes the chance.

"Dean, I need to tell you something." Dean looks over at him, and Sam sees that he looks a lot more cheerful than he did earlier. He feels bad ruining his mood, but it has to be done.

"What's up, Sammy?" Dean asks concerned. Even though they're both grown men, Dean still worries about his little brother. He knows that this past year has taken a toll on him, and he's sure that Sam is as upset as he is about the newly started apocalypse. He braces himself for Sam's confessions and is ready to comfort him. But nothing could prepare him for what he hears next.

"Cas is leaving." Dean looks at Sam, confused. "Like _leaving _leaving. For good." Dean looks at him for another moment then laughs, uncomfortably.

"Come on, Sammy, he can't just leave. We… I…" _I need him, _Dean thinks, but doesn't say it.

"I'm sorry, Dean… He didn't want to tell you, but I know you'd want to know." Dean looks away and focuses on the road ahead. Sam sighs. "I guess they just…"

"They need my help in heaven," Cas interrupts from the back seat. Sam whips around and sees the angel glaring at him, angrily. Sam gives him a small smile, trying to look apologetic, but Cas looks away.

"I'll leave when you reach your destination," he says roughly. Dean glances up at the rearview mirror and sees Cas staring back at him. He holds his gaze. After a few moments, Dean looks away and pulls off of the highway. They drive the rest of the way in silence.

* * *

Dean flips on the lights in the motel room and tosses his bag on the tattered couch. He falls on the sofa and closes his eyes, not bothering to look around. By now, the rooms all look the same. Sam walks in behind him, sets his bag on the coffee table, and looks at his brother. He wouldn't be surprised if Dean was already asleep. He doesn't notice Cas walk in until his gravelly voice breaks the silence.

"It's time for me to go." Sam turns and looks at the angel, but Cas doesn't see. His eyes are locked on Dean.

"Cas, look, I'm sorry," Sam says quietly. "He needed to know."

"I know. It was a selfish of me to keep that from him," he replies, not taking his eyes off the sleeping boy on the couch. Sam smiles at Cas' fixation.

"We'll miss you." Cas finally looks at him and gives him a small smile. "Good luck up there. Maybe we'll see you around after everything's over."

"Maybe," Cas replies, and Sam hears the hopefulness in his voice. "Be safe. Both of you. Don't stay anywhere too long. I'll try to distract them and, if needed, send them in a different direction in their search."

"We will. Thanks, Cas."

Cas nods and hold out his hand. Sam takes it and pulls him into a hug. Sam doesn't want him to leave. Cas is the closest thing he's ever had to a little brother.

Over on the couch, Dean sits, listening to their conversation. He doesn't want to get up. Getting up would mean saying goodbye to Cas, and that's the last thing he wants to do. But he knows Cas will leave even if he stays put. _Here we go,_ he thinks as he rises from the couch. Sam releases the angel from his hug and claps him on the shoulder. Dean stands behind them, waiting for them to realize he's there. Cas looks up and he sees Dean watching them, clothes rumpled and arms folded. _Beautiful _is the first thing that comes to Cas' mind.

"Dean," he says, and Sam turns to look at his brother.

"Cas," Dean says slowly, stepping over to the angel. Sam backs up and walks to the kitchen to explore the rest of the room, giving them some space. Meanwhile, Cas is at a loss for words. Dean is standing close to him but the angel wants him closer. He feels his face flush and he looks down at his shoes.

"I'm sorry, Dean," he says, barely above a whispers. Dean smiles down at him, taking in his dark, mussed up hair and tan trench coat, wondering if he'll ever see them again. Instead of answering Cas, he takes his arm and pulls him into an embrace. Cas tentatively wraps his arms around Dean's body. When he does, Dean squeezes him tighter, not wanting to let go. He feels Cas' soft hair against his cheek and his chin digging into his shoulder. He smiles at the feeling of the warmth growing in his chest, and holds the angel tighter.

"Dean," Cas says in a strangled voice. Dean quickly releases his grasp, realizing he'd been crushing him. He looks down and tries to wipe the grin off his face, but to no avail.

"Sorry, buddy," he says, catching the angel's eye. Dean reaches out and smooths down an arm of Cas' coat. "I'm just really gonna miss…" Dean trails off. _Miss you, _Dean thinks. "Miss having an angel on my shoulder," he adds, smirking at Cas. He gives him a small smile back.

"I'll miss you too," he says, and Dean's heart catches in his throat. "Goodbye, Dean," Cas says, in a low, gravelly voice Dean had come to love. Before Dean can beg him to stay, Cas is gone.

* * *

Dean stares at the spot where the angel was for what seemed like hours, forcing the tears out of his eyes. Finally, he walks away from the spot and calls out.

"Sammy?"

"Yep?" Sam pops out from behind the doorway in the kitchen.

_How long has he been standing there?_ Dean thinks. "You think we should angel proof this place?" Sam smirks and tosses him a spray paint can.

"Way ahead of you."

* * *

A few hours later, Dean is lying on the couch drinking a beer and watching the shadows flickering on the walls from the television. He tries to drown out his thoughts with the white noise of the T.V. and, of course, alcohol. He feels himself drifting off to sleep when Sam walks in.

"We should call Bobby." Dean's eyes snap open. _Damn! How did I forget?_ Dean thinks.

"Good thinking," he answers as he jumps off the couch and walks quickly to the kitchen, leaving Sam standing in the blue light of the television. He grabs the phone off the receiver and dials Bobby's number. He stares down at the tile floor as it rings. The other line click on. "Hullo?" Bobby's voice crackles through the speakers.

"Bobby, it's me. We have…" Before he can finish his sentence, there's a crash from the other room. No, more like an explosion. Smoke pours from the doorway leading to the living room. Panic claws at Dean's body.

"_Sammy!_" he yells as he drops the receiver and runs to the other room, waving away smoke. "Sammy?" he yells again.

"Dean! I'm okay!" Relief washes over him as he walks aimlessly, blinded by the smoke.

"What the hell was that?" he yells back to Sam. There's only silence. "Sam?" he says. He feels the panic rising up again.

"Dean ," he hears Sam finally reply in a small voice. "It's Cas."


	2. Chapter 2

_No, _Dean thinks as he stumbles forward through the dense smoke. _Please, not Cas. _A thousand scenarios race through his head as he lunges forward and stumbles over his brother. He lands in something wet and warm. Looking down, he sees blood pooling on the wooden floor. White hot panic rushes through him as he slowly tilts his head up. Castiel is lying on the floor, eyes closed and unmoving. His clothes are blossoming red, and crimson gashes and bruises cover his clammy, white face. Dean stares at him, unable to move. The words _He's dead He's dead He's dead_ flash through his empty mind over and over again. Suddenly, Cas' face contorts in agony. The sudden movement is enough to get Dean moving again. He scrambles over to Cas, slipping on the blood stained floor.

"I'll go get some rags," Sam tells Dean. He barely nods in reply as Sam rushes off to the kitchen. Dean slowly lifts Cas' head into the crook of his elbow and wraps his other hand around Cas' waist, easing the angel onto his lap. Cas winces at the movement. Dean wipes away the blood trickling over Cas' eye with his shirt sleeve and inspects the gashes. All of them are deep, but only the deepest one across his brow is still bleeding. The bruises forming on his eye and cheek already turned a deep purple.

"Oh god, Cas," he says, his voice breaking. He brushes the clumps of hair away from Cas' forehead. "Stay with me, buddy. Please." Sam emerges from the other room, rags and a pair of scissors in hand.

"You start cleaning him up," he says, handing Dean the wet pieces of cloth. "I'll get his shirt off and see what damage there is." Dean presses on of the rags to a cut across Cas' forehead, and he hisses in pain. "It's okay," Dean says, not sure if Cas can hear him or not. He moves the rag between gashes on the angel's face until it's soaked with blood.

He's about to reach of another one when Sam says, "Dean, look at this." Dean glances over and catches his breath.

"Holy shit," he whispers. Deep cuts are crisscrossed along Cas' upper chest and dark bruises cover his ribs. Below, on his stomach, are burn marks, bubbling and festering in horizontal lines. The brothers stare, horrified.

"Cold water, ice, bandages," Dean says finally, still in shock.

"Got it," Sam replies, just as quietly. Dean looks back at Cas' face and pulls his angel closer.

"What the hell happened to you?"

* * *

Cas' chests rises and falls beneath the bandages covering his body. Stiches stretch across his forehead, holding the skin together, and his right eye is blackened, swollen shut. Dean watches him, worried, from the other room.

"Yeah, he'll be fine," he says quietly into the receiver.

"Good," Bobby sighs from the other end. "You worried me there, boy!"

"Sorry, Bobby," Dean replies, smiling a bit. "So what are we gonna do about this whole end-of-the-world deal?"

"Dammit, son, I dunno! I'll try an' dig somethin' up in the next few days. Just keep an eye on the news, an' if anything comes your way, get the hell outta there."

"Alright," Dean pauses, "and stay safe. The friggin' angels are probably on your ass, too."

"Don't worry 'bout me, idjit. I ain't dyin' till I make sure you two don't get sent back into the fiery pit." Bobby laughs, but Dean stays quiet. "I'll call you tomorrow, Dean, an' take care of Sam and Cas."

"Will do," Dean says roughly, and the line goes dead. Dean sets the phone down on the table and slumps into a chair. He leans forward and puts his head in his hands. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tries to block out flashes of Hell that still haunt his memories, but they flood his thoughts. Flinching, he lifts his head and sees Sam watching him, concerned.

"What's up, Sammy?" Dean asks as cheerfully as he can. Sam stares at his brother for another moment before deciding not to ask what was wrong.

"Uh, just, we're out of bandages and I'm gonna run and get some more."

"Sounds good, but be careful," Dean replies, standing up from his chair.

"Dude, how long have we been hunter?," Sam says, smiling, as he draws out a knife from the inside of his jacket. "Figured it be better to go at night, less visible that way." Dean nods, opening the fridge and rummaging through it.

"Get some more beer while you're at it!" Dean yells to his little brother.

"Got it," Sam replies, closing the door behind him.

Dean smiles and grabs a beer, shutting the fridge. Walking to the living room, he sets the bottle down and falls on the couch, closing his eyes. Then, he remembers Cas. His eyes snap open and he rushes to the other room, leaving his beer behind. Peering inside, Dean sees Cas lying down, face scarred and bruises, eyes closed and still breathing. He exhales, not realizes he'd been holding his breath, and strides noiselessly into the room. Leaning against the wall and looking down at his angel, Dean catches himself smiling like an idiot. _Dean, you sap,_ he thinks to himself. Clearing his throat, he smooths out his grin and sits down in the chair beside the bed. _Please don't leave me, _Dean thinks again, looking at the angel and feeling the worry creep into his chest. He scoots the chair as close to the bed as he can. Taking Cas' hand, he blushes furiously. He squeezes the angel's hand lightly, knowing he won't get a response, but willing to try. He runs his thumb over Cas' knuckles, feeling bumps and crevices of his skin. He brings Cas' hand up to his lips, kissing it lightly. Again, he smiles at himself, knowing that he shouldn't be this happy. Leaning back, he closes his eyes, still gripping Cas' palm in his own. Eventually, he drifts off to sleep.

* * *

Sam opens the door to the hotel room and is greeted by the lights from the T.V. flickering off the wall. He walks into the room, expecting to see Dean splayed on the couch, asleep. Sam sees the empty cushions and abandoned beer on the coffee table and fears the worst. Panic claws at his stomach as he sneaks slowly into the rest of the rooms, drawing a knife out of the inside of his coat.

"Dean?" he says barely above a whisper. Silence answers him. He makes his way through the kitchen and sees a light at the end of the hallway. Holding his breath, he inches down the hallway. Peering into the room, he sees Dean asleep in a chair, head leaning back, arms hanging down, and facing Cas, who's still asleep. He shakes his head at his brother, smiling. Flicking off the light, he walks away, pocketing the knife. A shiver runs through him and he realizes how vulnerable the room had been. He closes his eyes, trying to clear the images of his slaughtered brother from his thoughts. _We need to be more careful, _he thinks. Sitting down on the couch, he sets his knife beside him and settles in, knowing that he won't get any sleep tonight.

* * *

The first thing Cas sees when he opens his eyes is Dean curled up in a chair next to him, asleep. His face is peaceful, unlined, so much different than when he is awake. Cas smiles, slightly, still dazed from awaking moments before. Suddenly, reality comes crashing down, and he remembers. Images race though his mind, and he closes his eyes trying to block it out. But the memories of his torturing build up, pressing into every crevice, and he covers his head, crying out in anguish. Dean's eyes jerk open and he jumps out of the chair, reflexively, knocking it over. He sees Cas sitting up, knees curled to his chest and hands over his head.

"What the…" he says quietly, leaning down and placing a hand on the angel's back. Cas doesn't reply. The spinning in his mind has stop, leaving him with the feeling that his body has been hollowed out. Now, he has a clear picture of what happened the day before. He knows that he had been exiled from heaven and he knows who is responsible. Sitting up suddenly, he sees Dean's face is inches away from his own, peering at him, concerned.

"Cas, what's…"

"Go away, Dean," Cas says sharply, turning away. Dean is taken aback, drawing away from the bed but not leaving.

"You okay?"

"No, I'm not," he replies, turning to face him. "Now leave." Dean stands there, staring at Cas, whose eyes, cold and unfeeling, boar into his own. Cas' face grows red with anger to see Dean's stalling. "_Leave!"_

Dean's face grows hard, and any pity he felt for Cas leaves in that moment. He turns and and walks out, slamming the door behind him. Sam is standing at the end of the hall, confused.

"What the hell?"

Dean just pushes past him.

"He's awake," he answers roughly, grabbing his keys off the table.

"Where'd you think you're going?" he asks, turning to see his brother stalking out the door.

"Out." The door slams shut behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

A few minutes later, Sam slowly eases open the door to the room Cas is in, and the hinges creak, revealing his presence.

"Dean, leave me alone!"

"Whoa, dude, not Dean," Sam says, grinning and holding his hands up in a mocking surrender.

Cas looks up, muttering, "Sorry, Sam." Sam glances at Cas' face, seeing the stitches stretching across his forehead, and the first thing that comes to his mind is _Frankenstein. _ He can't help but chuckle slightly.

"What's funny?" Cas asks suspiciously.

"Oh nothing, it's just," Sam gestures to his forehead. "Well, you know, it reminds me of this movie where this guy…" He trails off when he sees that, instead of the innocent, curious look he has in these situations, Cas is just glaring at him. Sam clears his throat, embarrassed. "We should probably change those bandages." Sam nods his head at Cas, and he looks down, staring at the gauze covering his torso like he hadn't known it was there.

"Oh," Cas replies slowly. "Yeah, okay." Sam strides over to the bed, bandages and scissors in hand, and drags the chair Dean had been sleeping in over towards Cas, situating himself close enough to reach the man. Setting the role of gauze down, he reaches towards the gauze, and Cas flinches violently, throwing his arms out in front of him. Sam pulls his hand away gently.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, Cas," he says in a low voice, try to comfort him. Cas lowers his hands slowly, face burning in embarrassment, but stays silent. Sam reaches out again, tentatively, trying not to scare the wounded angel, and grabs the top of the bandage, just below Cas' shoulder. He slips his fingers into the compress and stretches it away from the skin, making room for the blades of the scissors. Within seconds, the bandages are cut away, and Sam is peeling the fabric from Cas' damaged skin. Cas hisses in pain, squeezing the side of the bed so hard that his knuckles turn white. Sam glances up, worriedly, and quickly pulls away the rest, revealing the extent of the damage.

The wounds were, frankly, disgusting; worse than they had been the day before. The bruises under the skin gave Cas' whole chest a sickly purple and yellowish tint, adding effect to the blistered skin beneath his ribs. Above those, the crisscrossed gashes protrude from the skin, surrounded by an inflamed, red glow.

"I… I'll go get something for those," Sam stutters, rising from the chair and stepping out of the room. Cas nods, still captivated by the wounds that cover him. He presses his hand to the cuts and grimaces. The pattern feels warm under his skin.

_If only I could heal myself_, he thinks, closing his eyes. Under the darkness of his lids, an orange, glowing stake stretches towards him and he hears the sizzling of skin. His eyes snap open and the image fads quickly, but the wounds are still there. A new feeling of dread creeps up inside Cas, but he forces it down when he notices Sam striding towards the room, a towel and a glass bottle of brown liquid in hand. The tall man steps in to the room, taking up the entire doorway, and shakes the bottle, sloshing the whiskey inside.

"Well, I can promise you one thing. This is gonna hurt." Sam sits down in the chair and drenches one side of the small towel with liquid. Cas stares at him, ill at ease with Sam's warning. "You should probably lie back," Sam suggests, seeing Cas' uneasiness and trying to sound positive. He shifts his position and lies back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He feels the liquid trickle over his leg and tenses up, bracing for the pain Sam said there would be. But nothing could prepare him for it. Bolts of pain burst through his chest and fire licks through his body, setting every nerve he has aflame. He cries out as the pain continues, getting worse every second, and bites down on his knuckles to stop his screams. As the burning starts to subside, all Cas wants is Dean there to comfort him.

* * *

The shadows cast over the orange-tinted landscape are fading by the time Dean pulls into the parking lot of the hotel. Turning off the engine, he grabs the bugling, greasy bag from the passenger seat and gets out of the car, slamming the door behind him. After hours of drinking and fuming, the resentment he feels towards Cas has settled like a rock in the bottom of his stomach and been blurred out, for the moment, by all the alcohol in his system. Dean sways when he reaches the door and the thought that he might have drank too much passes through his thoughts for only a moment before it is whisked away. Leaning against the door jamb for support, he lazily reaches for the keys in his pocket. He fumbles for a minute, eventually finding the lock, and twists them. The door swings open, taking Dean with it. He stumbles into the room and looks around.

Light spills into the front of the room from the kitchen, mixing with the glow of the T.V. His younger brother is nowhere in sight. Dean straightens himself up, trying to look as sober as possible, when a huge, shadowy figure steps out in front of him, holding a glinting, silver knife in their hand. Startled, Dean steps back but loses his footing and falls into the wall behind him, spilling the contents of the sack on the floor.

"God Dammit!" he gasps as the wind is knocked out of him. He glances up at the figure and his eyes quickly adjust. Sam is looming over him, face contorted in rage. Dean breathes a sigh of relief.

"Sammy, don' jump out at me like that," he says, trying and failing to keep is words from slurring together. He shoots his brother a slack smirk, but Sam only glares back.

"Where the _hell _have you been?"

"I j-jus' went for…"

"Jesus Christ, Dean, it's been six friggin' hours! No calls, no nothing, you could have been dead for all I knew!"

"Calm down, Sammy," he responds, pushing past his fuming brother and stumbling slowly towards the couch. "I wen' out to grab some grub." Sam reaches down and grabs a wrapped burger that had spilled out of the bag.

"It takes six hours to 'grab some grub'?" Sam retorts in a mocking rage.

"Well, I… I may have made a few stops along the way," Dean replies, smiling drunkenly at his brother. Sam chucks the burger at Dean, harder than necessary and mumbles, "Jerk," as he stalks off to the other room. Dean lets the burger hit him in the chest and fall to the ground, not even making an attempt to catch it. As he watches Sam walk away, his vision blurs and the room seems to tilt on its side. _Shit, I'm more drunk than I thought,_ Dean thinks, grabbing the edge of the couch to steady himself. He glances around the room again and notices that something, no, some_one_, is missing.

"Where's Cas?" he asks before he can stop himself.

"Bedroom," Sam responds from the kitchen. "He's resting." Dean shrugs to himself and falls back on the couch.

In the other room, Sam's pulling out a beer and a bag of chips. Remembering the scene between Dean and Cas earlier, he's glad Dean didn't ask any more questions. Setting the bag and bottle on the table, he walks back into the other room to salvage the rest of the burgers.

"Are you gonna want dinner?" Sam asks, gathering up the food. When he gets no answer, he turns and sees that his brother is already asleep.

* * *

A few minutes later, Cas is tearing ravenously into his hamburger. Sam, watching the spectacle, shakes his head and laughs.

"You might wanna slow down." Cas glances up at him, cheeks bulging. He looks back at his burger and puts it down reluctantly, swallowing hard and wiping his mouth on the sleeve of the plaid shirt Sam lent him.

"Sorry…"

Sam chuckles again. "Man, if you had told me you were hungry, I would have gotten you something earlier."

"Thank you, but I was trying to…" Cas pauses, " to not give anything away."

"I know, but I would have found out either way."

Cas shifts around uncomfortably and tilts his head up, catching Sam's worried eye.

"You know we can't keep it from him for long."

"We can try."

Sam sighs. "He'll figure it out soon enough, if he doesn't expect it already!"

"That's why I have to stay away from him. I can't risk him finding out and having tell him… tell him why I fell."

The two men sit in an uncomfortable silence. Cas picks up his burger again but doesn't take a bite. Wrapping it up, he puts it to the side and leans forward to lay his head in his hands. Sam sits quietly, not knowing what to say next. Finally, he leans forward and breaks the silence.

"Look, Cas, whatever you did, I'm sure it's not that bad. I mean, not bad enough that Dean'll be too upset." Cas doesn't respond or even look up. "If you'd tell me what it is, I could try to help or at least…"

"No," Cas says roughly as he lifts his head up to face Sam. "I can't tell you. No one can know."

"We're your friends, Cas. You can trust us."

"Sam, you don't understand. I am a criminal. What I did was bad enough to get me exiled from heaven and Dean can't know that it was because of him. He…" Cas stops abruptly, realizing he said too much.

"Wait, wait, wait. _Dean_ got you kicked out of heaven?"

"No, that's not…"

"How the hell did he do that?"

"Sam, please don't."

"Now you gotta tell us, man. We could fix this! If he got you to fall, he could send you back up there, right?"

"It doesn't work like that. Now will you please stop."

"But…"

"Sam, in the past twenty-four hours I've been tortured and torn from the only life I've ever known. Will you please drop it?"

That finally shuts Sam up. He stands up hesitantly, taking that as his cue to leave.

"I-I'm sorry," Sam stammers as he walks to the door. "But we are your friends, Cas. We'll help you… If you ever want it." Cas only nods in reply. Sam sighs and walks out the door, closing it softly and leaving the fallen angel on his own.


	4. Chapter 4

The chirping and buzzing of his phone on the coffee table wakes Dean from his comatose state. He reaches over blindly and flips it open, raising it to his ear.

"Hullo?" His voice is cracked and raw as he speaks for the first time that morning.

"Dean, I found somethin'." Bobby's voice whisks away some of the fog in his head and he opens his eyes, squinting as the light sends a bolt of pain through his head.

"Yeah? What is it?"

"Damn, boy, you sound terrible."

"Yeah, sorry, just…" His mind flashes back to yesterday and the look on Cas' face when he woke. "Just had a long day."

"Well, wake up, Dean, 'cause you're probably gonna hafta get your ass movin' pretty soon." Dean sits up, holding back a groan as an ache settles in the front of his head. "You should-"

"Yeah, I know, I was gonna have us hitting the road in the next few days."

"If you'd let me finish," Bobby says, irritated. He pauses for a moment, waiting for Dean to interrupt, and then continues. "Okay, so apparently whenever the angels use their mojo to make somthin' big happen, it uses a lot. I'm guessing you already know that, so get this. Whenever they start somethin', like a storm for example, they put a bunch of their men in the area to supervise, I guess. To make sure the people they want to save, if any, get out alright and the rest are sucked up in whatever hell they've planned for them."

"And, for us, that means?"

"It's just another reason for you to get outta there as fast as you possibly can. I'll bet you three'll be the first ones they'll track down. But until somthin' happens, stay low. Don't move around all willy-nilly. It'll be a waste of energy and could draw attention. Keep the television on 24/7 and at the first sign of anything, even just a steep drop it temperatures, get out. Alright?" Bobby doesn't wait for Dean to answer. "Okay, Lucifer probably has it in for you guys too, so look out for demons. And if you run into any of those bastards and gank one, leave as quick as you can. A dead demon is a beacon pointing straight to you two. Don't go out in the daylight if you can help it, either. Less coverage for you and more for them. Got it?" Bobby takes a breath long enough for Dean to answer.

"Yeah, got it, Bobby."

"Good. One more thing. Today's Tuesday, right?"

"Uh, yeah, I think so. Why?"

"I'll call you up every Tuesday to check in, and if I don't, just assume… well assume the worst."

"Bobby…"

"Listen to me, Dean, I know you don't wanna hear this, but you gotta. This ain't somethin' to be taken lightly. It's a real possibility." Dean is pacing around the room now, head cleared by Bobby talking like his death was already ensured.

"I know this is serious, but you aren't dying at the hands of those sons 'a bitches. Not while there's breath left in me. We could at least come and get you, you could-"

"No, son, you can't."

"Why the hell not?"

"Boy, they know who I am. This'll be the first place they come looking for you two. That's why you gotta stay away. Even if you don't hear from me. They could be using me as bait to lure you two in. Understand?" There's only silence. "Dean?"

"Yeah, Bobby, I understand."

"Good. I'll call you if I find anything else. Take care of your brother, ya idijit." Dean can hear Bobby smiling on the other end. "And lemme talk to him." Dean cups his hand over the mouthpiece.

"Sammy?" he yells into the back rooms. It only takes a moment for Sam to appear from the other room.

"Yep?"

"Bobby." He says, holding the phone out to his brother. Sam nudges him with his arm and he walks past.

"You okay?" _Damn, I must look like crap, _Dean thinks.

"Yeah, just a little hung-over," he answers, smirking at his brother. Sam rolls his eyes and holds the phone to his ear.

"Hey, Bobby."

Sam's voice fades as Dean walks to the kitchen. His head throbs as he pours himself a cup of steaming, black coffee and sits down at the table. Closing his eyes, he takes up sip. The scalding liquid does nothing to soothe his raw throat, but after a few more gulps, he's as alert as ever.

In the other room, Sam is ending his conversation with Bobby.

"Keep an eye on your brother, boy. He sounds a little… well…"

"Yeah, he does," Sam answers, chuckling. "See ya, Bobby."

The other line clicks dead. He tosses the phone on the couch and steps back into the kitchen.

"So, I see you've sobered up," Sam says to Dean while pulling up a chair. "Not like you're ever fully sober but…"

"Funny, Sammy," Dean answers, taking another sip of coffee. "What'd Bobby say?"

"Same thing he said to you, I'd guess. Angel storms, stay away from demons, etcetera."

"Sounds about right. So, now we just lay low until some angelic tornado tears through town? That sounds pretty dull."

"Dean, I don't think 'dull' is a bad thing right now," Sam says, grinning at his brother. Dean smirks and looks down at his coffee. "And, Dean, about what Bobby said…" Dean glances at Sam, eyebrow raised at his newly serious tone. "If something does happen to him, you can't go looking for him." Dean rolls his eyes.

"Sammy-"

"Seriously, man, you can't. It's too risky and too obvious of a trap." Dean glares at his brother.

"Fine," he says, crossing his arms. Sam returns Dean's glare, and the two men stay locked in a childish stare to see who will back down first.

"Uh, Sam?"

Startled, the brothers turn to look in the direction of the voice. Cas is standing in the middle of the room, drowning in clothing. Sam's plaid shirt hangs down almost to his knees and his sweatpants pool around his feet. The sleeves are haphazardly rolled up to his elbows, making him look like a little kid dressing up as an adult.

"Cas! Hey," Sam replies in a cheerful tone, glancing at his brother. Dean is pretending to be much more interested in the tile floor of the kitchen than in the man standing in front of them. "How're you feeling?"

"Oh, I'm, uh, fine," Cas answers, shuffling his feet uncomfortably. "I was wondering if you have any more of those… healing capsules." Dean can't help but crack a smile at that. He glances up at Cas and sees that he's staring at him, eyes wide, like a deer caught in headlights. He clears his throat, looking down at the floor again.

"You mean medicine?" Sam suggests.

"Yeah, that." Cas tears his eyes from Dean, wishing he could see more of his smile.

"Coming right up," Sam answers, getting out of his chair and disappearing into the front room.

The silence is deafening as Cas stands there awkwardly. Dean sits across from him, swirling his coffee around with his finger, looking calm and nonchalant. But, Cas doesn't know that he's searching frantically for something to say, not wanting the silence continue. Dean takes a breath and opens his mouth, determined to put something out there, when Sam walks back into the room.

"Okay, take two of these every 4 to 6 hours," he reads from the box. He hands the bottle to Cas. "That should help with some pain and swelling and stuff. I'll get you some water." Sam leaves Cas standing with the container, helpless, having no idea how to open it. He tugs at the lid and twists it, not knowing how it works. Seeing Cas' distress, Dean gets up and strides toward him. Grabbing the bottle out of Cas' hands, he pops it open, holding it out for him.

Cas takes it, hesitantly, and mumbles, "Thank you." Dean claps him on the shoulder and passes by him, walking down the hallway and into the back rooms. He pauses at the bathroom door, peering into the room Cas has been holed up in. Glancing down the hallways and not seeing anyone in his direct line of view, he sneaks inside. It appears exactly the same as it was before. His eyes skit over the run down chair, crumpled bedding, filled trashcan, and… Dean's eyes snap back to the waste basket. Inside, there are crumpled up burger wrappers, jerky packaging, and an empty bag of chips.

_Why would Sam be eating in here? _He wonders. In that moment, gears start grinding in his head, putting two and two together, but Dean, oblivious to this realization, goes about his business.

* * *

That night, Sam and Dean sit in the front room, researching more about the apocalypse. Unfortunately, none of it was new information.

"Well, I got nothin'," Dean says, shutting the book he was reading and rubbing his eyes.

"Me neither," Sam adds from across the room.

"I don't know where Bobby gets his stuff. I mean , _none _of this is anything we haven't heard before!"

"He's got bit of a bigger library than us," Sam replies, gesturing to the five books stacked up on the floor beside the couch.

"But what about your 'research'?" Dean asks his brother, mockingly. "He ain't got much of that."

"Dean, do you really think someone is gonna write an article on what to do if God comes back and starts the friggin' apocalypse for you?"

"Whatever," he groans, closing his eyes and lying back on the couch. For a while, the only noise in the room is the occasional clicking of keys on Sam's laptop and the low buzz of the television. Eventually, Dean drifts off to sleep.

* * *

Sam glances up from his computer at his brother, seeing his chest slowly rising and falling with deep, even breaths. He shuts his computer noiselessly and sets it to the side, standing from the chair and slowly stepping out of the room. Opening the fridge, he grabs a half of a sandwich and a bag of chips off the counter and takes them down the hallway. As he opens the bedroom door, Sam sees Cas lying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, hands clasped over his chest.

"What are you doing?" Sam asks, laughing. Cas' head jerks towards him, startled.

"I was… I got bored," he answers as he pushes himself up off of the floor. Sam smirks at him. "I'm sure. Here, I bet you're hungry." Sam hands Cas the food and he grabs it eagerly.

"Thank you, Sam," he replies as he sits down on the bed and tears into the sandwich. Sam leans back against the wall and waits, letting him eat in peace for a few minutes. After the sandwich is gone, Sam speaks up.

"Cas, you can't keep doing this."

"Yes, actually, I can," Cas answers quickly, without looking up.

"Seriously, dude, you can't keep starving yourself just to hide from Dean." Cas ignores him and opens the bag of chips. Sam sighs and grabs the bag out of his hands.

"Hey!" Cas shouts angrily.

"You can have them back after we talk about this." Cas clenches his jaw and looks away, but doesn't object.

"The least you can do is come out of this room once and a while," Sam suggests, sitting down by Cas.

"But then everything will be obvious," Cas mumbles. Sam stays silent, knowing he's right.

"I'll make you a deal," Sam says after a few minutes of thinking. "You come out of this room more and just act Cas-like and normal, and I'll make sure Dean isn't there when you have to do any human-like stuff."

"That's not going to work," Cas replies coldly. _I know, that's the point_, Sam thinks to himself.

"It's better than nothing," he says aloud. Cas doesn't answer.

"It's either that or I tell him." Cas takes in a sharp breath and turns to Sam.

"Sam, please-"

"It's your choice," he replies softly, standing up from the bed. He doesn't want to hurt Cas or lose his trust, but he knows it's for the best. Cas, on the other hand, feels like he's been backed into a corner. He knows he will have to explain himself either way. For him, there is no way out.

"Fine," he says roughly. Sam tries to smile at him, but Cas just stares at the floor. Turning to the door, Sam pauses before walking away.

"Cut him some slack, okay?" Cas looks up at him, head cocked to the side in confusion. "Dean, I mean. I don't know what happened between you two and I really don't want to, but he does care about you." Cas lowers his head again, redness creeping up into his cheeks. "You're his best friend, Cas," Sam tells him, knowing what he said is true. "Just give him another chance." Cas nods solemnly and Sam smiles, pleased with the outcome of their conversation.

"See ya tomorrow," he says, tossing the bag of chips on the bed and closing the door behind him.

Back in the front room, Sam slides silently back into his chair and open his computer once again, glancing at his brother, who's still fast asleep.

* * *

The next morning, Dean wakes stiffly. Sitting up and stretching, he sees Sam, computer sitting in his lap, in the same place he was the night before.

"Dude, have you been at it all night?" Sam smirks, not looking up from the screen. "What time is it?" he asks, glancing at the screen and seeing that it's on a commercial.

"7:45." Dean raises his eyebrows, impressed with how long he slept, and Sam chuckles. "That's like a new record!"

"Oh, shut up," Dean mutters as he gets up off the couch and walks to the kitchen. As he's pouring himself a cup of coffee, he hears Sam from the other room.

"Hey, can you go help Cas with his bandages? His stitches can probably come out and the cuts on his chest need some cleaning."

"Why can't you do it?" Dean asks bitterly, taking a sip of his mug.

"Busy. Researching. Possibly saving our asses."

"But he likes you better than me. You do it." Sam suppresses a grin, knowing how wrong he is, and doesn't reply. He hears Dean set his cup down on the table, mumbling "Fine."

Dean grabs the bottle of whiskey and a pair of scissors off the counter and the roll of bandages from their bag. In the hallway, he holds the scissors between his teeth and takes a small towel out of the closet, shutting it with his foot. Dean knocks on the door and waits for the "okay" to enter.

Inside, Cas is sitting cross-legged on top of the bedding. He's been up for hours, but has been stalling, knowing his deal with Sam will start as soon as he gets up. The knock on the door makes his stomach drop.

"Yeah, Sam," he says loudly. The door swings open, and he's unprepared for who enters.

"Not Sammy," Dean murmurs, still holding the scissors in his mouth. Cas stares at him, unsure of what to do. Dean tosses the bandages and scissors on the bed, and catches Cas' eye, grinning to try and hide his hesitation.

"Let's get you cleaned up," he says cheerfully, situating himself in the chair near the bed. Cas clears his throat, trying to act natural.

"Okay." He doesn't move from his spot, and they sit in silence for a few seconds.

"Cas, you're gonna hafta come over here." Cas tries to hold down the heat rising to his face and moves over towards Dean.

"Stitches first?" Dean suggest, grabbing the scissors. Cas nods his head, unsure. Before he can react, Dean leans towards him, placing a hand on his forehead and smoothing back his hair. Cas watches his face, fixated, as Dean snips each stitch and pulls them out gently.

"Okay, next," Dean says, letting Cas' hair fall forward. "Um, you should probably…" Dean trails off uncomfortably. Cas, not realizing what he means, just sits there. "Cas, take off your shirt."

"Oh…" Cas blushes and looks down, undoing the buttons. Dean turns away, suppressing a grin and Cas shrugs the shirt off his shoulders.

"Okay," he says quietly. Dean turns back and picks up the scissors. He works mechanically, slicing the bandages with precision and pulling them off smoothly. Cas sucks in a sharp breath at the pain, and Dean's head snaps up.

"Did that hurt?"

"I'm fine," Cas says quietly, seeing the worry on Dean's face. Dean's eyes linger on his before he looks down again, inspecting the wounds.

"Son of a bitch," he says under his breath. The wounds, more healed than the day before, still look worse than Dean has seen. Dean grabs the towel and spreads it behind Cas. Cas lies back, just like he did with Sam. Picking up the bottle and uncapping it, Dean holds it over Cas' chest.

"Sorry, Buddy," he says, drenching the cuts in liquid. Cas clenches his teeth, groaning in pain. Dean stops pouring, but the waves continue, shooting up Cas' chest. Dean stares at him, desperate to help, but not sure what to do to comfort him. Finally, he decides to do nothing. Pulling the towel out from under Cas' back, he dabs it on his chest, soaking up the whiskey that remains.

As the pain subsides, Cas opens his eyes and sees Dean pressing the fabric to the wounds. Dean glances over at him and smiles in apology. A few seconds later, Dean balls up to towel and sets it aside, grabbing the rolls of bandages.

"Do you want more of this?" he asks as Cas sits up. Cas just shrugs. "I think you'll be good." Dean eyes the rumpled plaid shirt on the bed behind Cas and gets an idea.

"Hold up," he tells Cas as he rises from the chair and walks out of the room. Cas sits still, staring at his hands, waiting for Dean to return. Dean steps back into the room and Cas glances up at him.

"Here." Dean tosses a bundle of clothes to him: a t-shirt and an old pair of jeans. Cas looks at him, confused at his gesture. "I just thought you might want something that fits a little better," he explains, a smile playing at his lips.

"Well," he says when Cas doesn't reply, "I guess that's all." Dean grabs his supplies off of the bed. "Are you gonna come out and, ya know, be sociable?" Dean asks, jokingly.

"Yes, Sam told me to," Cas replies in a small voice, turning away from Dean's gaze.

"Great!" Dean glances around the room, not sure what to say next. His eyes stop, again, on the trash bin beside the bed. Inside are more chip bags and a bottle of water. A look of confusion passes over his face. _This is getting weird_, he thinks, and a question pops into his head.

"Cas, why can't you heal yourself?" Blood rushes from Cas' face as he hears the question.

"Uh, t-the wounds are, well, celestial s-so they are harder to heal," he stutters quickly. Dean nods his head, unconvinced, and leaves the room without another word.

* * *

Over the next few days, Cas is true to his word. He leaves his room and joins the brothers, trying to blend in with the surroundings. He watches their interactions and stays quiet, but Sam usually drags him into the conversation one way or another. Besides those times, he and Dean never talk, except for when it's absolutely necessary. Despite their lack of conversation, Dean always lends him a shirt when he needs it.

On the other end of the deal, Sam makes sure Dean is out of the way when Cas needs to eat, use the restroom, or sleep. He steers the conversation away from angels or anything that would prompt Dean to ask a question Cas can't answer. Both Sam and Cas assume that their plan is going pretty well. Dean doesn't seem to suspect anything and acts like nothing has changed. But they don't know that he is paying more attention than ever. Dean never objects when Sam makes up some random excuse for him to leave the room, but he always manages to find out why. Whether it's crumpled up wrappers from things he knows Sam didn't eat or the tired look in Cas' eyes that only appears after a long night of sleep, he figures it out and, eventually, the realization clicks in his brain.

When it does, he's angry. Dean can't understand why Cas and Sam had teamed up against him and decided to keep something so damn important from him. He wants to confront them and make them admit to what they did, because he knows how easy it would be. But, all the while, he keeps quiet, silently fuming until the anger is out of his system. He doesn't want to damage his relationship with Cas any more than he already has. But, after a week, Dean can't wait any longer.

* * *

"He's human." Sam jumps, startled by his brother's sudden appearance behind him.

"Huh?"

"Cas," Dean replies, gesturing to the man passed out from exhaustion on the couch. "Angels don't sleep. He's a human." Sam stares at him, shocked, glancing over at Cas and realizing his mistake.

"I-I don't have… don't know what you're talking about," he stammers back, knowing Dean can tell when he's lying. Dean sighs and crosses his arms, unconvinced.

"Come on, Sam."

"No, Dean," he answers hurriedly, getting up from his chair. "Don't drag me into this."

Sam leaves the room quickly, before he can betray Cas' trust even more. _Well now it's obvious, _Dean thinks to himself, turning to Cas, who's still asleep. He sits down on the coffee table opposite of the couch, and looks at Cas, really looks at him, for the first time since he fell. Dean's shirt hangs loosely on Cas' curled up figure and his mussed up hair, falling lightly over the fresh scar on his forehead, adds to the innocence of his face. Dean takes in image, and an ache in his chest starts to grow as he realizes how much he missed his angel. Reaching over, Dean smiles to himself and shakes Cas' shoulder.

"Cas." He shifts around a bit but doesn't wake up. "Cas!" he says louder, jostling his arm a little more.

Cas' eyes blink open slowly and, seeing Dean's face leaning over him, he smiles at the image. But he suddenly realizes what that means.

"Dean, I-I can explain," he says flustered, rising from the couch. "I was…I was just…" His mind franticly searches for a reasonable explanation.

"Hey, buddy, it's okay," Dean answers softly, standing from the table to face Cas, ignoring his own long-standing rule about personal space. Cas searches his bright green eyes for the exasperation or annoyance they always seem to hold, but, for some reason, it isn't there. _How is he not angry with me? _he wonders. Dean's rough voice breaks through his thoughts.

"You're not an angel anymore, are you?" Cas freezes in place. He doesn't reply, but the look on his face gives Dean his answer. "Why didn't you just tell me?" he asks, almost laughing. Dean watches Cas' face fall and realizes that he doesn't find any humor in it.

"Is that why you came back that day? 'Cause you fell?" Cas nods, still gaping at Dean, looking practically terrified. "Oh, Cas…" he says, barely above a whisper, as he steps forward and lays his hand gently on Cas' arm. "I could have helped you! Well, I mean, we could have helped you. We could have fixed this and gotten you back up to heaven weeks ago." He gives Cas a small smile, trying to get some sort of response. "Right?" All he gets is a small, weak head shake. Dean's smile falters.

"Wait, why did you even fall in the first place?" Cas stomach clenches as he hears the question he's been dreading.

"I can't talk about it," he murmurs, stepping out of Dean's reach.

"Yes, you can." Dean strides towards him, determined to get an explanation. Cas turns away, ready to walk out of the room.

"No. Dean, please-" Dean grabs Cas' arm, holding him in place.

"Cas, talk to me," he warns in a gruff voice. Cas tries to wriggle out of Dean's grasp, but it only tightens.

"Let me go!"

"Not until you tell me."

"Fine!" Cas pauses for a moment, stalling his confession. "You." Dean tilts his head, brows furrowed in confusion.

"Me?" he asks quietly.

"Yes. I fell because of you." Cas shakes his arm one more and Dean lets go, letting his hand drop to his side. Dean's mind scrambles for answers he doesn't have. Cas turns to leave the room when he hears Dean's voice, soft and wounded.

"And-and the burns? The-"

"Torture?" Cas retorts sharply. "Yeah, that too."

"But… I don't understand. What did I do?"

"It was mostly my fault," Cas replies, felling guilty for snapping at him. Turning to Dean, he sees his arms hanging limply and his face heavy with guilt. He looks smaller than he had minutes ago.

"Well, I obviously did something," he says, meeting Cas' gaze. "Why me? Why not Sam or anyone else?"

"Dean, I don't want to talk about it."

"But I do!" Dean's face lights up with anger. "I want to know what I did to-"

"I can't tell you what you did because you didn't do anything," Cas interrupts, running his hands through his hair as he faces the moments he's been dreading.

"No, listen to me!" Dean steps closer to Cas as his outrage grows. "I want to know what I screwed up so badly that made those bastards punish you instead," Dean shouts. "I want to know how I ended up causing you so much pain, and I want to know how, no matter what, I always end up hurting you more than anyone else."

Finally, Cas can't handle anymore of Dean blaming himself.

"It's because I loved you," he manages to croak, knowing Dean can't hear what he said. Dean abruptly stops his ranting.

"Huh?" Cas takes a shaky breath.

"I-it's because I loved you." Dean's breath catches in his throat as the words bounce around in his mind. As they start to stick and take meaning, and warm glow erupts in his chest. A faint smile plays at his lips as Cas continues, turning away from him.

"They tortured me for your location when I arrived in heaven." Tears prick at his eyes as he goes on. "I wouldn't tell them, and it got worse. They knew that I cared about you more than I should and showed me what happens to angels who share bonds with humans. Terrible, terrible things. I tried to deny it, but they used my own feelings against me. They said they would find you and kill you if I didn't do it myself. I refused, and, when they were finished with their torment, they sent me back to Earth. Apparently, to die as a human is worse punishment than to die as an angel." Tears stream steadily down his face now as he chokes out his last words. "I gave up my life for you, Dean, and I'm starting to think it's not worth it."

Frozen in place, Dean watches Cas' tear-filled eyes search his to try and find some clue to how he feels. Dean glances away, shaking his head.

"Cas," he answers, voice airy and unsure. "I-I think-"

"I know. I should go." Dean's head snaps up at Cas' sudden interjection. Before he can ask why, Cas answers his unsaid question.

"I've bothered you two enough, and now this." Cas turns and starts walking away. "You don't want me here anymore, and I need to do penance." He doesn't see Dean step up behind him. "I can be gone by-"

Cas stops short as he feels Dean's hand on his shoulder. Spinning around in alarm, he is immediately enveloped in Dean's arms. Dean feels Cas tense up as he runs his hand along his back and across his neck. He hears him mumble, "Dean," into his shirt as he attempts to break from his grasp, but that only makes Dean hold him tighter.

"Please don't go," he says softly into Cas' ear. Cas relaxes at the sound of his voice, and a grin spreads across Dean's face. He releases his grasp and takes a hold of Cas' shoulders, easing him back so he can see his face. He looks down into Cas' crystal blue eyes, shinning with tears and with hope.

"I'm gonna make your fall worth it, okay?" Dean tells him gently. A smile blossoms on Cas' face; the first real smile he's shown in weeks. Dean draws his angel forward, kissing the side of his head and wrapping Cas in his arms again. "If it's the last thing I do, I'm gonna make it worth it."


	5. Chapter 5

Later that night, Sam is sitting on his computer once again. Glancing up from the screen, he sees the two other men sitting on the couch, flipping through the remainder of the books they always have with them. Sam is anxious to get one of them alone. He's dying to find out what happened between Dean and Cas earlier that day, but hasn't gotten the chance to ask. But the way they have been acting towards each other is a good sign.

"Find anything?"

"Nothin'," Dean replies, tossing the book aside. "Bobby have anything new?"

"No, just checking in."

"Damn." Cas slowly closes the book he'd been looking at, realizing he should probably tell them what else he knows.

"I don't know if this will help, but the angels and demons are working together." Sitting up suddenly, the brother stare at him, dumbfounded.

"Why the hell didn't you tell us that before?" Dean questions, not even attempting to hide his annoyance. Cas shrugs.

"There didn't seem to be a good time."

Dean just glares at him, holding back sharp retorts he would have usually shouted by now.

"I am sorry," Cas says softly, looking away, knowing he shouldn't have kept that from them. Dean gets up from the couch and walks towards the kitchen, trying to keep his rising anger at bay.

"So, is there anything else that could help?" Sam asks in a lighter tone. "Anything at all? Even if it doesn't seem that important."

"No, not that-"

"Son of a bitch!" They here the refrigerator door slam in the other room and wait for an explanation. After a few seconds, Dean stalks in, grabbing his key off of the table.

"Outta beer. I'll make a run," he says, opening the door.

"Dude, you're making a run just for beer?" Dean looks back over his shoulder and shrugs, hand still on the doorknob.

"And, ya know, other stuff."

"Whatever," Sam says, fixing his eyes back on his screen. "Just be careful."

"Sure, Sammy," he replies, glancing over at Cas and catching his eye. Dean winks at him, trying to lighten the mood, and watches a flush creep across his face as he tilts his head to the side, confused at the gesture. Dean grins, pleased with himself, and walks out the door.

Back in the room, Cas sits quietly as Sam taps away on his computer. After a few minutes, he shuts the laptop and looks up at Cas, who's staring curiously at the T.V. screen.

"So, what's up with you and Dean? Things seem a lot friendlier between you two."

"He discovered what I am. I believe we exchanged a human form of comfort, actually," Cas answers calmly, turning to face him. Sam laughs at his explanation.

"See, I told you he wouldn't be mad."

"Yes, you did. And thank you, Sam."

"For?"

"For keeping my secret from him. I know you two share a strong bond and I do not want to damage it."

"It's no problem," Sam answers, smiling at him. He's about to ask again about why he fell, since Dean probably already knows the answer, but decides against it. Cas had done enough explaining already.

"Do you know anything else about the angel and demon alliance thing?" he asks, changing the subject.

"Yes." Sam waits for an explanation, but doesn't get one.

"Well, what do you know?" Cas turns back to the T.V. as he continues.

"Both Heaven and Hell have come to an agreement to work together during this time. They will play by each other's rules to avoid any more delays. Of course, God and Lucifer ultimately make the decisions, but on the smaller things, the angels and demons cooperate to prepare the final battlefield."

"So basically organized warfare?"

"Yes."

"Well, that sounds… deadly."

"It is." Sam stares at the fallen angel, uncomfortable with how casually he is discussing the subject that will probably kill them.

"Anything else?"

"No, not that I can think of."

Sam opens his laptop again, not knowing how much more research he can handle tonight.

"I'm glad you told Dean," Sam finally says. Cas looks over at him and smiles slightly.

"I am too."

* * *

"You gonna eat all that yerself?" Dean smirks at the older woman behind the register as he finishes pilling two packs of beer, a loaf of bread, and three chip bags onto the counter.

"No, ma'am." The register chirps as she finishes ringing him up.

"Okay, hun, the total is $24.36." Dean hands her a couple of bills and picks up his bags. Outside, lightning flashes across the sky and the lights inside the store flicker.

"My, that's one nasty storm."

"Mm hm," he murmurs, tapping his foot, anxious to get back to the motel. The storm started soon after he left, quite unexpectedly, but he doesn't know how bad it's supposed to get. Suddenly, a low, whirring alarm starts outside. They both turn to look out the windows covering the storefront.

"Tornado? Those ain't normal for this time 'a year." Dean's blood runs cold, as if her words made the situation real. There's no way a storm like this could have been natural.

"Keep the change," he says hurriedly, almost sprinting out of the doors. In the Impala, he tosses the bags into the backseat, not worrying about the food, and hightails his car out of the parking lot. As soon as he's on the road, he pulls out his phone and calls Sam. The line rings for only a moment.

"Dean, I'm already way ahead of you," is the first thing he hears from the other end of the call.

"Good, Sammy. You have the bags packed?"

"In the process."

"Meet me outside the doors in five," he says, ending the call. The winds have picked up now, and he struggles to keep his car driving straight. Lightning flashes constantly, keeping the sky partially lit. Dean presses down harder on the gas petal and drives as fast as he can without driving the car off the road. Within minutes, he's pulled in to the parking lot of the hotel, barely stopping long enough for Sam and Cas to climb into the seats.

"Everybody good?" The Impala swings sharply around the corner of the parking lot, back onto the road.

"Yeah," Sam replies from the passenger seat.

"Cas?" Dean glances into the rear view mirror. Cas is staring out the window, eyes wide, gripping the cushions of the seats and holding on for dear life. "Cas?" Dean repeats louder. Tearing his eyes away from the window, he nods, looking terrified.

"Okay, hang on." He fixes his eyes back on the road and floors the gas pedal. "Let's outrun these bastards." The Impala shoots forward, and Dean only hopes that the road ahead is empty.

After a few minutes, hail starts pounding on the roof, sounding like gunshots. "Shit, shit, shit," Dean murmurs over and over again, checking the windshield for cracks every few seconds.

In the back seat, Cas is frozen in terror. This storm is unlike anything he has ever seen. He knows of Earthly storms but has never really experienced one, especially not as a human himself. Keeping his eyes locked on the rear view mirror, he watches for Dean's eyes to flick back to his, giving him some sign that it's all okay. But Dean is focusing on the road, brows furrowed in concentration as he maneuvers the speeding car down the road.

Sam, too, is watching his brother, worried more about him than he is about the storm. He's used to his brother's normal driving, which is sometimes dangerous even in normal conditions, but now could be as deadly as the storm. After what seems like hours, but it actually less than one, the storm is behind them. But Dean's foot is planted firmly on the pedal.

"You can let up a little now," Sam tells him quietly. Dean doesn't hear him, or at least pretends not to. "Dean." Still no answer. Then, Sam sees something on the road. "_Dean!" _

Dean's eyes snap up from the spot he's been staring and he sees an object straight ahead. No, not just an object, a person. The three men are thrown forward violently as he slams on the breaks, tires screeching loudly. The car stops inches from the body in front of them.

The person is ghostly, with extremely pale skin and a willowy figure. What looks like the bloody and torn remains of a suit hang off of him. His face is barely visible, but lit up enough to see that it is just as pale as the rest of him. Light brown hair sporadically covers his skull, and the raw patches indicate that it has been pulled out in tufts. The rest of his face seems hollowed out, making him look more like a skeleton than a living person. Sunken eye sockets hold bulging, bloodshot eyes that have lost their color. In fact, the only color in his face is the dark red blood dripping from his lips.

Dean, Sam, and Cas sit silently in the car, gaping. The man seems frozen in time and doesn't even attempt to move out of the way of the car. He just stares off into the distance, over the roof of the Impala, seemingly unfazed by the fact that he is inches from becoming road kill. Suddenly, his eyes flick down to the windshield and move between all three faces, finally acknowledging what is in front of him. He steps slowly, staggering as he starts to walk towards the side of the car, eyes still locked on the passengers.

"Cas, lock the doors," Dean says quietly, barely moving his lips, but Cas stays still, not exactly sure how to lock them. The man is stopped again, peering curiously inside. "_Cas!"_

He jumps and reaches over to the door, searching frantically for what could lock it. Finally, he presses down on a nub and hears a _click. _Assuming that means it's locked, he does the same on the other door. When he does, Sam speaks up.

"Dean, just drive."

"Hold on, I don't wanna run him over."

"But-" The man turns his head suddenly and glares at Sam, as if he heard what he was saying and still makes no attempt to get out of the ways.

Fed up with the wait, Dean slams his hand on the steering wheel, sounding the horn. The man grimaces at the noise but doesn't move, so he tries again. The man puts his hands over his ears and opens his mouth like he's about to say something, but nothing comes out. His eyes grow wide and he bends over, clutching his throat, and finally coughs, splattering blood on the windshield of the Impala.

"God dammit," Dean mumbles. When he honks the horn again, the man finally staggers to the side, tripping and grabbing the driver's side mirror. Slamming on the gas pedal, Dean expects the man slide off. But he doesn't. He hangs onto the mirror for dear life. Sam and Dean hear the crunching and splattering of the body as it is whipped along the road and grimace, having enough sense to keep looking forward and keep the car moving, knowing it's too late to save the man. But in the back seat, Cas stares, horrified, out the window, wanting to get out and help. But he doesn't speak up. And when the man is gone, he doesn't dare to look back at the road behind them.

* * *

Within a few hours, they have found a place to stay for the night. The motel's receptionist is irritated when Sam wakes her up to pay, but soon they are settled in. This room is smaller than the last one, with only two beds and a couch in the cramped main area, but it'll do. Dean immediately claims one of the beds, leaving Sam and Cas to angel proof and unpack on their own. Closing his eyes, he drifts off to sleep to the hiss of spray-paint cans and the low murmuring of voices.

* * *

Dean is pulled away from his dreams a couple of hours later. Sitting up, he blinks a few times, trying to adjust to the darkness and wonders what woke him. Sam is sleeping soundly on the couch on the other side of the room and everything seems peaceful. But when he turns to lie back down, he sees Cas in the other bed, sitting up with his knees curled to his chest, clearly awake.

"Cas, you say something?" He jumps, startled, and turns to Dean.

"O-oh, I'm sorry I woke you. I just had a… uh…"

"Bad dream?" Cas looks down at the bed and nods, still visibly shaken by it. "You wanna talk about it?"

He shakes his head slowly and Dean frowns, concerned. He gets up and walks over to the bed sitting down in front of him. He looks up when Dean settles into the mattress, surprised that he came over. As Cas' face comes into view, Dean's frown deepens. Dried tears rim his crystal blue eyes and streak down his cheeks.

"You're crying," he comments dumbly. Wiping his face, Cas averts his eyes, embarrassed.

"I- I woke up and they were there."

"Oh… Well…" Dean purses his lips, not sure what to say. "Dreams are bitches, man, especially if you ain't had 'em till now." Cas smiles a little and Dean catches his eye again, grinning back. "And if you want to talk-"

"I do not, but thank you." His smile deflates a bit at the rejection.

"No problem," he replies, trying not to sound hurt.

When it's clear that neither of them have anything else to say, Dean yawns and gets up off the bed.

"Well, you should probably get some sleep."

"As should you." Dean claps Cas' shoulder and his hand lingers longer than it should. For a moment, he almost decides to sit back down on the bed and wrap his arms around his angel, making sure he sleeps soundly through the rest of the night. But he doesn't. Cas looks up, head cocked to the side, thinking almost the same thing. Ever since he became human, he has longed to be closer to Dean, especially now, but doesn't know how to. He doubts that the man even feels the same way. Dean gives Cas' shoulder one last squeeze before finally turning away. Closing his eyes, he breathes in deeply, wondering if Dean could see how red his face had involuntarily become. He still hasn't grown used to how often Dean makes him blush and has no idea how to control it.

Dean flops back down on his bed and mumbles, "Night, Cas."

"Goodnight, Dean," he replies softly.

Dean turns on his side when he hears Cas crawl back under the covers and pretends to go back to sleep. Soon, the man in the other bed is breathing deeply and evenly. Dean flips back over and watches his chest rise and fall slowly under the covers, knowing that he's fast asleep. Blinking a few times and shaking his head, he tries to clear away his exhaustion, determined to stay awake till morning in case Cas has another bad dream. When sunlight starts to stream in through the closed blinds in the room, Dean is still up, watching over his angel like Cas has always watched over him.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry it took me so long to update! Hope you all are liking it so far! And reviews are much appreciated. This is only my second fic and I'd love some advice for this story and for future ones! **


End file.
